


Untitled

by comtessedebussy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comtessedebussy/pseuds/comtessedebussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel finds a kinky item in Jack's closet and decides that they absolutely need to try it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

“What’s this?”

Jack froze.

Daniel had been going through Jack’s closet and “organizing” it (i.e. getting rid of half the items in there), because, as Daniel informed him, “a man needs to know how to dress decently.” He’d asked that same question about a number of items, but never in that tone. Jack didn’t remember putting anything that disquieting in his closet. He turned around to see Daniel fingering a whip, hanging far in the back, clearly forgotten long, long ago.

“I didn’t know you did kinky,” Daniel said, turning to Jack with a glint in his eye.

They’d been in a relationship for long enough that Jack could recognize that glint for what it was.

It’d started a few months ago, when they were both a little drunk, at Daniel’s house. Somehow, against their better judgment, the conversation had drifted to work – the SGC, the Goul’d, and, in their foggy minds the question had somehow arisen of which god or Goul’d was the most dangerous. Daniel had dragged some dusty book of the shelf, pointing out that there were some pretty nasty Aztec deities that could bear comparison to Ra and Apophis; Jack had been arguing against him because, in a wine-induced haze, he just wanted to argue. In the middle of it, Jack had grabbed Daniel by the hair and kissed him, slamming him against the wall. Daniel had just gone with it. He’d looked at Jack with those blue eyes of his and then closed them and let Jack ravage his mouth.

They’d never done anything really kinky though. Of course, their love-making was never gentle – Jack was too battle-hardened a soldier to remember gentle, and Daniel, underneath his sensitive appearance, was surprisingly tough. Jack had been surprised, at first, that the kind, gentle man he’d known would let Jack manhandle him. He’d remembered how much he had complained about having a scientist on his team so long ago, how they were delicate and needed looking after; little did he know that this particular archeologist cum linguist liked nothing better than being pinned down and ravaged. But, despite all that, they’d never really used any…accessories.

Jack tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“Not really…that’s from years and years ago. I don’t even remember the last time I used it.”

For once, Daniel noted, Jack was being candid. He didn’t have that arrogant smirk he used when taunting the bad guys with half-truths. Daniel nodded, turning back, fingering the whip, imagining it in Jack’s hand…he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at that thought.

Suddenly, Jack was behind him, hand fisting in his hair, his body pressed against Daniel’s.

“You want me to use it, don’t you?” Jack growled in his ear.

Any pretense of composure that Daniel had been in possession of until that moment simply evaporated. He leaned back into Jack. “Oh God yes….” He could feel Jack’s hand snaking slowly under his T-shirt as the other held his head back, Jack’s mouth kissing his neck while fingers played with his nipple. His lips were warm and wet at the curve of his neck, and he could feel how hard Jack was against him; his own legs turning into rubber, held up by nothing but willpower and Jack’s still-tight grip in his hair.

“Please, Jack,” he muttered, as Jack’s mouth bit down on a particularly sensitive bit of skin on his neck.

“I love to hear you beg,” Jack’s voice was low and deep. In a swift, smooth motion, he pulled Daniel’s T-shirt off, running his hands against the man’s back…then stopped.

He looked at the other man’s skin. It was soft and smooth, without a single blemish. Jack himself had a fair number of scars – all those years in covert ops leave marks on a man. He’d stopped counting at a certain point. But Daniel’s had the body of a young Greek god, all smooth curves and shapely muscle, skin to be worshipped.

“Daniel, I can’t,” he forced out, running his hands over the man’s shoulders – broad, strong shoulders. The man hid a lot of strength beneath his charming demeanor, but he did not have a warrior’s battle-hardened body. Certainly not the kind of body he could leave marks on.

Daniel turned to him, those blue eyes boring into Jack’s face. He’s left his glasses somewhere in the house, forcing Jack to confront the full intensity of that stare. Jack wondered how the man’s eyes could be at the same time so innocent and forceful; he could look so gentle sometimes, with those wide, sky-colored eyes, and yet have a fire smoldering beneath his stare. “Please,” he said, at the same time begging the older man and demanding it. You don’t have to protect me from everything, it was saying. You always look after me. But I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine. I can handle it.

Jack knew it was true. Beneath his youthful face, Daniel had an uncompromising, stubborn strength. He had a flashback to their escapade on a Goul’d ship, trying to save Earth, when Daniel had gotten shot by a staff weapon. He remembered the way his heart had skipped a beat, knowing the damage those weapons could do, and remembered Daniel’s look of resolve, all innocence gone and his pain hidden beneath a mask, as he told Jack to leave him.

Jack ran his hands over the younger man’s shoulders again, then pushed him roughly to the ground. Daniel fell to his knees – just like those countless times the Goul’d had forced him to kneel, and Jack hated those bastards, because they were evil, but also because they were the ones to throw Daniel to his knees, and he wanted to be the one Daniel was staring up at in defiance. He looked up at Jack like that now, a challenge in his eyes –hurt me, I dare you, you’ll never be able to make me beg. There was always a challenge in Daniel’s eyes, a burning refusal to accept what he didn’t agree with.

Jack tore his eyes away from Daniel. If they were going to do this he might as well play the part. “You’ll need something to hold on to,” he ordered as he walked over to where the whip hung in the back of his closet. There was a chair nearby that Daniel pulled over, grasping the back of it, waiting. Jack took the whip – it felt strange in his hand, unfamiliar, but not wrong. He swished it through the air a few times, getting a feel for it. It made an angry sound against the air – almost like a snake hissing. He flinched at the sound. That had to hurt. But his face was a mask when he turned back to Daniel. He swung the whip through the air a few more times, watching Daniel close his eyes in anticipation.

Jack realized suddenly how hard he was, and, with a quick glance down at Daniel, realized he wasn’t the only one. Not that it was a surprise, not with the way Daniel’s lips were parted with desire in that absolutely obscene fashion. He unzipped his own jeans, allowing himself some sweet relief as he touched his hardened cock. Daniel, he noticed, was gripping the chair as if his life depended on it, not allowing his hands anywhere near where they wanted to be.

“You want this? Beg me for it.” Jack had to force his voice not to crack as he said it. The sight of Daniel kneeling before him, torn between two kinds of desire, between the need for pleasure and for pain, was almost more than he could handle.

Daniel looked up at him then, pupils wide and yet his eyes somehow smoldering.

“I don’t beg,” he said, with such conviction that Jack almost believed he was Apophis; almost believed that Daniel was on his knees, refusing to ask a Goul’d for mercy.

He swung the whip through the air and this time it landed on skin. He watched Daniel close his eyes and let out a gasp. He swung it a second time. Same reaction. He swung it a third time, watching the muscles in the younger man’s arms tense as he held the chair. The whip left red marks where it touched skin, marks slowly snaking their way across his skin. Damn, Jack thought. Why is it always snakes? I hate snakes.

Daniel was looking up at him now, watching his face – no, his eyes travelling down to Jack’s slowly dripping erection. Daniel smiled that knowing smile of his, and Jack swung again, wiping the smirk of his face.

“You…want this…so badly,” Daniel gasped between lashes.

Jack paused. He did. He had been reluctant at first, repressing the urge deep down in himself, a violent urge whose origin he did not know. He’d thought of Binar and Hell and Sokar and smoke and fire and screaming souls and his mind had rebelled. But there was a part of him that had wanted this, too, and Daniel had coaxed that part out, slowly, goading him into this, Jack realized. Damn that man and his brain, he always knew how to get to Jack in exactly the right ways. He looked up at Jack, flushed, breathless, a strand of hair falling into his eyes, just begging to be kissed. It was bloody infuriating.

He made another several strokes, savoring Daniel’s sharp intakes of breath each time the whip landed. The younger man had his head thrown back, his expression something between pain and ecstasy (or both? How similar they looked). His cock twitched at the thought, and suddenly, he wanted to break the man kneeling before him, make him cry out, admit that he’d asked for too much. Another several lashes and Daniel moaned, his eyes fluttering open. That was good enough.

Jack threw the whip on the floor before pulling Daniel up and crushing their lips. He grabbed the man’s hair (which he was overly fond of doing, but really, it was so long, just begging to be taken like that), unsure of where else he could put his hands without causing pain. They stumbled over to the bed like that, attached, moving in a clumsy tango as they shed clothes, until Jack pushed Daniel face-down on the bed. He stood over him contentedly for a second, watching the younger man rub against the sheets desperately, his gorgeous ass move up and down, as Jack fingered his own cock. And then Jack was over him, centimeters above his skin, afraid to touch.

Daniel turned his head slightly, watching the man above him out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not made of porcelain, you know. You’re allowed to touch.”

Jack ran his fingers gingerly over Daniel’s back, across the deep red welts he’d left. Daniel shivered every time Jack touched a particularly sensitive spot, sometimes letting out a strangled breath.

And then, suddenly, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was if some force inside him had been building and building, until it reached critical mass and exploded, unleashing its force on both of them. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed the bottle of lubricant on the bedside table (in its honored position next to the alarm clock), spilling some and coating pretty much everything in it. Then he put his fingers on that delightful ass of Daniel’s, and, the movement familiar from so many previous encounters, thrust in with a sigh of relief. Somewhere below him, Daniel made a strangled gurgling noise.

They stayed like that for a few seconds with nothing but the sound of their breaths, Jack savoring the feeling of being encompassed so completely, but also of owning, owning, this man beneath him who was somehow able to surrender completely and yet give the impression of belonging to no one but himself. Then Jack’s hand found Daniel’s cock, started a slow, smooth motion, which was surprisingly coordinated with his thrusts in and out, thrusts that hit the younger man’s prostate each time, making him gasp and moan and twist and – almost beg. Daniel had opened his mouth, and the word “harder” was about to spill out but stayed in his throat after the first syllable.

Jack chuckled.

“You really are stubborn,” he said, thrusting harder this time, as far as he could go, giving in to what he knew Daniel wanted without any of the man’s pleas. He kept at it, with rough, quick motions of in and out, in and out. Invading and possessing at the same time. Forcing himself inside because that was where he belonged. He heard Daniel start moaning, his hands grabbing fistfuls of pillow, which, Jack though, was probably the closest the man was going to get to begging. In this scenario, at least.

Jack thrust in again, and Daniel made another obnoxiously dirty moan. They were both on an adrenaline high, riding a roller coaster down at ninety-five degrees, knowing that roller coasters don’t last and that they come to an ugly, abrupt end and then your head spins and your legs can’t walk but not caring.

Then, just like that, the roller coaster came to a crashing stop. One final, harsh stroke and Jack was gone, emptying himself inside Daniel, filling the younger man’s body until he felt hollow inside, like he’d filled Daniel with the essence of himself until there was nothing left but lethargy. Daniel followed him a few seconds later, his mouth opening to release what might be called a delicate gasp and coming onto the sheets below him.

Jack collapsed next to Daniel, and they both lay motionless next to each other for minutes as the cool breeze from the fan (the ceiling fan was on. How hadn’t they noticed?) kissed their naked bodies. Daniel savored the cool air as it touched his back, which was starting to feel rather sore now that he was off the adrenaline high.

They lay there for a while, considering this new development in their relationship. Daniel reached out his arm, putting it over Jack’s chest and closing his eyes contentedly. There’d probably be hell to pay later (even moving his arm was proving painful at the moment, and he sincerely hoped Frazier wouldn’t have him in for a checkup anytime soon. The bruises alone had been awkward to explain, but this?), but Daniel, on a rather uncharacteristic impulse, pushed it to the back of his mind.

“You know, if you plan on making this a regular occurrence, you’re going to need a safe word,” Jack pointed out. Oh, for crying out loud, safe word? He had never in his life thought that he would be discussing having a safe word with someone, let alone the archeologist next to him. He’d lied to Daniel about using the whip before, of course – it had been a present from a cheeky girlfriend back when he was young enough to have cheeky girlfriends, and he’d never really had the guts to use on her (ladies must be treated like ladies, and all that. Of course, that was before he’d met Carter). He’d certainly never needed a safe word for using it.

“I’m not sure I need one, Jack.”

“Daniel.”

There he was, being protective again. That was his job. But, somehow, he had never thought that a lecture on safe BDSM practices would be part of the list of duties.

“You always protect me, Jack. From everything. I don’t need a word to protect me from you.”

How did he explain? That it was in a house like this, even in a bedroom like this, in a quiet suburb of Colorado Springs, that the little boy he’d tried to protect from him ended with the little boy shooting himself? That it could all so easily go wrong again?

The devastation must have shown on his face, because Daniel reached out a hand and ran it over Jack’s cheek. “If it’s truly too much, I’ll ask you for mercy,” he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You never ask for mercy.”

“Exactly.”

Jack sighed. He supposed this was the best he was going to get.

The light breeze from the fan played with Daniel’s hair, lifting it up and letting it flop down again rather hypnotically. Jack watched it while Daniel drifted off, cheeks slightly flushed, wrapped in a warm afterglow. How could he have known, when he’d made that first trip with Daniel Jackson under the warm sun of Abydos, that this is where they would end?

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first things I wrote. Still on the fence about putting this here.


End file.
